A Wife for Sherlock Holmes
Chapter 4 – Getting to Know You
Sherlock woke.
Something was playing with his hair. He reached up and found it wasn't something, but someone. He opened his eyes and looked up at Mari as she idly played with his mop of dark curls.
He turned to look up at her. "What on earth are you doing?" He asked.
"Seeing how long it took for you to wake up." She smiled.
"Are you trying to annoy me?"
"No." She smiled. "I am hungry." She said looking at him. "Take your wife for brunch."
"Brunch it isn't even…"
"It is eleven-thirty husband."
He blinked the rest of the cobwebs from his mind as he sat up. He looked back at her as she lay in her side, watching him. He then looked at the clock. It was nearly noon. He never slept that late. He sighed, but then he had not been engaged in his honeymoon until the wee hours most days either.
When they had woken sometime around two from their first couple of rounds, she had grabbed a snack of juice and crackers. He then set up a chess board and they played for several hours. She was not easily beaten, which he was happy with.
They had collapsed in a pile of limbs, lips, and groans after and he could remember little else until he had woken. He looked at her as she rose to her feet. She turned and in the light he caught a look at something.
He rose to his feet and blinked. She looked at him startled and he turned her face gently more to the light. She had a slight and small discoloration to her skin. "Melasma." He said looking at her like he was inspecting a corpse.
She pulled his hand away. "What?"
"The mask of pregnancy." He said looking at her. He shook his head. "Come now, let us get dressed and I will feed you. God knows you two both need it. You must be half starved."
"I won't go that far." She said rolling her eyes as she looked down and saw a suitcase. "What is this doing here?"
"John and Mrs. Hudson packed up a bag for a couple days."
"Oh the museum. I need to call them and…"
"Already been taken care of. Dr. Jefferies says congratulations and hopes you are in good health as I recall."
"You told him I was pregnant?"
"Yes, but he had the idea on his own since he had watched you run to the toilet at least twice."
"Could have been food poisoning."
"But it wasn't was it." He said buttoning his shirt. He wore a shirt that was dark blue and he buttoned up the last button. He watched his wife as she dressed. She was fairly quick about it for a woman, already in comfortable pants and a loose blouse over her bra. She flipped her long hair forward over her face and brushed it in firm strokes to remove the tangles, many of which undoubtedly came from him playing with it as he made love to her. He would never be bored of the feel of her hair in his fingers.
He watched her as she brushed it out making it look like a living thing. She was anything, but boring especially in the bedroom. Holding his attention for long was difficult, but he was certain that she would.
She lifted her head and flicked her hair backwards over her shoulders and back like a pool. She then quickly grabbed a hair tie and held it in her teeth and moved to braid her hair and he rolled his eyes. He stepped forward and quickly pushed her hands away. He was tired of waiting.
His nimble fingers quickly French braided her hair with apparent ease. She was startled and he then lifted his hand expectantly. She blinked and he rolled his eyes and reached forward taking hold of the tie.
She released it from her lips and quickly tied off the braid. He looked at his work and smiled. "Why do you never have your hair lose?" He asked.
"I do not like it that way unless it is time for bed." She said. She reached back and coiled the end of the braid into a bun at the back of her head and pinned it there. She then lifted her wedding hijab. It was far too formal for this outing, but she did not have another here, something Mrs. Hudson would not be trained to look for.
He looked at her and cocked his head. "Why on earth do you insist on wearing that thing?" He asked.
He actually liked her hair when it was loose about her shoulders. It made her look younger and added to her overall beauty. He even had to admit he had done well in that department.
"I like it. I grew up with it and I feel naked in public without it." She said looking at him. "I am Muslim still in name if not fully in practice."
"Married in an Anglican ceremony to an agnostic man." He said. "This one is pretty, I have to admit it." He said inspecting it. He often looked at them from his height towering over her. "Still, do you not find them confining in some regard? Archaic?"
"I embroidered it." She said. "Perhaps it is that I am sentimental about my childhood."
He shook his head and made a face.
She laughed. "Do you know when you have that look your brow scrunches up, all right here." She pressed her thumb to his brow, right above his nose. "Hope your face never freezes like that."
He shook his head. "So the bakery downstairs then?" He asked.
"I think that would be lovely. I heard rumor of chocolate croissants." She said.
They walked into the bakery and had a lovely breakfast. She ate more than him, but he made no mention of it. She was carrying his child and he would see her happy and well fed. They spoke about living at Baker Street.
After they walked back upstairs together. Once at the top of the stairs he pulled her to him and kissed her. She was breathless when he pulled back. He looked at her. "I need a cigarette." He said turning away to look around his house.
"Don't you dare." She hissed.
Ha paused. "What?"
"I will tolerate the drug patches you favor, but I am highly allergic to cigarette smoke and I cannot be near it pregnant."
"Oh?" He asked. "It helps me think."
"What thinking? You are on a honeymoon."
"I well yes, but I…"
"Besides I can take your mind off that trivial need."
"Oh?" He asked. He was intrigued by that notion. He sat down in the chair looking at her. "How?" He asked shivering a little.
She reached beyond him and lifted a cigarette and a patch. "One you will see, the other not."
He blinked. He lifted his hand up. At first he went for the cigarette, like an old friend, but then he took the patch.
She smiled. "Good boy." She said tossing the cigarette to the side as he rolled up his sleeve and put the patch on his forearm.
He sighed and then gasped as she slithered into his lap and kissed him deeply. She pulled back pulling his lip with her teeth, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention. He blinked at her as she moved downwards and smirked a little as he realized her intention.
Again he was intrigued. No woman had ever done that to him and he had heard rumor it was most enjoyable.
His thoughts began to wonder as she unbuttoned his shirt as she worked downward, kissing the pale exposed flesh that rippled under her ministrations. His hand lifted to her head finding it a natural position as she moved lower.
She looked up at him, dark eyes swirling as she licked her lips wolfishly.
God help him…
ZzZ
Sherlock shook his head as he looked up. His wife stood up from him. He looked up at her in a daze for a moment. She was right. So now all he needed when he craved a cigarette was to have her go down on him and perform fellatio on him. He was fairly certain that would never happen in a public arena.
He calmed his breathing as she smiled at him as she sipped from a water glass she had retrieved.
He sat up straighter and sighed. "Well that was…most enjoyable." He said looking at her with his green eyes.
She chuckled. "Glad you thought so." She moved to walk by him. "I am going to take a bath. I need to shave." She said.
He caught her arm, startling her. "Wait a second." He said. He rose to his feet and gently rubbed his thumb against the corner of her lip. "You missed a spot." He murmured looking at his own bodily fluid on his finger tip.
"Oh clumsy me." She said smiling, oh that smirk made him annoyed and wanting all at the same time. He wondered how long it would be before made love to her on every surface of this flat. It would not long if she kept giving him that look.
She leaned forward and licked the offending off white liquid away and smiled coyly as she moved to fetch her bag. He put himself back together fighting the urge to grab her and have his wicked way with her in the naughtiest way he could think of. She came back out and he coughed a little and moved to the window to look out at something, anything other than her. If he looked at her, she would never make it to her bath.
She was there for some time.
He busied himself looking at things on the internet. He was bored, but he needed to remain here. He suspected if he went looking for a case she would be most upset and there was always tomorrow. He read the news.
She appeared wearing his dressing gown again and she walked by quietly into the room and was nearly to the bedroom when he spoke without looking up. "Are you feeling better?" He asked.
"Yes."
"I meant the bruises. They are no doubt painful, despite you trying to hide them."
"What do you mean?" She asked folding her arms over her ample chest.
He rose to his feet and turned quickly surprising her. "You know what I do and yet you are surprised." He lifted a hand and pressed it to her right thigh. She gritted her teeth a little. It was not the one that hurt her the most. He then pushed with his palm against her hands. She tumbled backwards into the chair and she hissed in pain. She sat up glaring at him, her eyes rimmed with tears from pain.
"Why did you do that?"
"I know you are bruised there." He said. "I saw the beginnings of it last night. Should be nice and purple now." He said. He looked at her. "I think you should not do Krav Maga anymore."
"I could have done it belly dancing."
"On what, your friend's head piece."
"She had a sword."
"That could explain the bruise to your thigh, but not the one on your chest." He continued. "However, a sword blade, even the back would be too narrow for the bruise. It was a staff or something blunt."
She sighed and nodded. "Yes. Bound to happen facing two at the same time. Sharpens your skills though and your awareness." She tried to smile, but his eyes narrowed at her.
He dipped forward and opened the dressing gown looking at the bruise. It was the size of his hand. "This one looks more like a foot."
"Yes. Jorie kicked me. What of it?" She asked. "I didn't block it. My mistake."
He growled and placed his hands on either side of the chair, his face suddenly very serious and almost violent as she sparked his temper. "You have bruises on your body that are pale yellow. You are often hit by objects. Most are linear so I suspect fencing." He hissed leaning forward, spearing her with his gaze. "A kick to your belly could cause harm to the baby or even you if it hits an organ. I will not have you play such dangerous games." He looked at her. A hand lifted to her chin. "Are we clear on this?"
She shivered. She had never seen him so intense. "All right." She whispered.
"Good." He said stepping back from her.
ZzZ
Mari stepped out of the museum building. She was tired, in need of food, and a good rub down. She smiled a little. She was sure she could mend two of the three. She had been married a week. Sherlock Holmes had alternately demanded she be there or leave his personal space depending on what he was doing. On a case he could be very fussy, but John Watson had told her to bear with him.
She liked John. He was open, honest, and gentle. He looked after her welfare and made sure she was eating properly. It was quite nice having an in house medical doctor. He liked the thrill of the case as much as Holmes, but in another way.
She sighed and felt rain on her cheek. She reached into her bag to find her umbrella when she found herself under one. She looked up at a man looking down at her. He was large and black, but smiled kindly.
"Hello, thank you. I need to find a cab." She said.
"No need, Mrs. Holmes. We already have one for you."
She arched an eyebrow. "I think I would rather find one of my own, thank you."
"We insist." Another man said coming forward.
She blinked. "On whose authority?"
One lifted a badge. "The government."
She took a breath. "Very well." She moved to the car, the man followed her holding the umbrella up. She sat down and then looked up. "And it is Doctor Holmes, thank you."
"Apologies." The black man said. He shut the door and then the car started to drive. She looked about and sighed.
At least they were kind kidnappers. She relaxed, but was seated like a coiled spring. At last they stopped outside what looked like a warehouse. Two men opened the door and she rolled out snapping to her feet. She was barefooted, but couched, ready to fight.
"If you would come with us, Mrs. Holmes." One said.
"It is doctor and not until I know why…" she hissed.
One man charged her. She ducked and sent him sprawling. The other took after her. She went high this time leaping over him as he went low, but she kicked downwards, hitting his back. Again the both tried to grab her. She gave one a broken rib for his trouble and the second she broke his foot. She stepped away, but the first man aimed a blow. She dodged it, but the second caught her full in the face. She took the blow and staggered back a bit as blood came to her lip and nose. She wiped it on the back of her hand.
She panted and looked at them. They pulled themselves to their feet.
"Why won't you give up bitch?" The first asked.
"I do not give up. Did you boss forget to mention I have three black belts?" She asked. "I can take a hit." She said spitting blood from her mouth.
The pair charged and she lifted up catching one square in the face with her palm under his chin, knocking him out cold, and the other got a crack to the back of his skull from her foot. The second man growled and whirled. "I don't care what the boss says. I am gonna add to the blood."
"At your own risk." She said backing up. She was dripping wet, ignoring her possible broken nose, as she circled him.
"Enough!" A bark came from inside the warehouse.
The man straightened and backed down. Mari stood up as well as the man walked forward. He wore a pin striped suit and held an umbrella.
"Who are you?"
"In a moment. For now, let us get you out of this dreadful weather, Doctor Holmes." He said gently. He lifted a handkerchief from his pocket. It was folded and starched, but clean. She took a breath and took it. She pressed it to the blood coming from her face.
She knew her face was bruising and she was starting to feel the pain. She walked with the man inside.
He opened the door to a room. "Please."
She sighed and walked in. "I suppose you are from the government as well."
"Yes." He nodded. "That looks rather bad. Should I call you an ambulance, Marion?"
"Oh already on first names now are we?" She asked. "Would help if I knew yours." She said. She then sighed looking at the blood soaked handkerchief. "You man may need one though."
"Indeed. I was not expecting you to put up a fight. Dr. Watson never did."
"I have black belts with men who kidnapped me. What did you think I was going to do? Invite them for tea?"
"You are not bound, my dear for the reason that I am not the enemy."
"Oh so my friends kidnap me now."
"I had to see if you were as beautiful as the I have heard."
He sighed and poured her some tea. "Here sip this."
She took the cup looking at him suspiciously.
"My dear if I had wanted to poison you, I would have done so a week ago."
She nodded and then sipped the tea. "This is good."
"Her majesty's blend. I thought you would appreciate it."
"Now why am I here, Mr…"
"Oh. I am Mycroft." He smiled and sat down before her.
She shook her head and pressed the cloth to her nose once more. "All right. Now why am I here?" She repeated.
"Information. What has Sherlock Holmes been up to?" She looked at this man. He had the look of Sherlock, in a vague sense. Older, but the eyes were as clever and watchful.
"Busy with cases. I am sure you can read Dr. Watson's blog."
"Ah." He smiled disarmingly. "I will get to the point then. I have brought you here to speak to you about his erratic behavior."
"I beg your pardon?!" She asked looking up at the man.
"Oh, do not be alarmed, Doctor Holmes." He paused. " I am a friend. In fact, I am family." He smiled. He sat back. He was dressed well and had an umbrella leaning against his leg. She watched him. He was not a threat, at least not yet and she did not have much energy. Another problem with her pregnancy.
She sipped more tea before looking up at him. "Family?" She blinked. "My family is dead, sir."
"Ah, and what, pray tell, are you going to discuss with my wife?" Sherlock's voice asked as he came into the room from behind her.
She took a deep breath. He had followed her here. She blinked. She was not sure if she was offended or grateful. For the moment she had a little of both.
"Sherlock. You know him?" She asked suspiciously without looking at him.
"Of course, though apparently he needs some schooling in introductions." Sherlock said sitting to her side. "Do you not brother?"
"He is your brother?" She asked looking up at her husband.
"Yes, my dear. My name is Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes."
She nodded. "A pleasure." She gasped as Sherlock took her face in his hands and looked at the swelling and blood. His anger sparked as well as his worry. He knew better than to think that Mycroft would have beaten her and indeed would have ordered it. She was not a threat to him.
"What the hell happened, Mari?" He asked, his irritation with his brother becoming a faint spark as his concern for his wife flared to life. "Who did this?" He asked her. He pressed a hand to the blood on top of her lip. He rubbed it between his fingers. Her lifeblood flared something in him that was deeper than the sibling rivalry he had with his brother. He narrowed his eyes. He would have the man ripped limb from limb.
"A lackey." Mycroft said nonchalantly. "He will be dealt with I assure you." He chuckled. "She has laid out one of them. He will have at least a cracked rib, perhaps a broken jaw." He sighed watching his brother fret. He had never seen his brother care about any one so and it was interesting to watch, but he could also see Sherlock was angry, coiled, ready to strike like a viper at anything that annoyed him further. "It isn't even broken. She just has a fat lip and a broken blood vessel."
Sherlock shot him a look and found a towel that was clean nearby. He pressed it to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. She gasped in pain since it was bruising, but he clicked his tongue at her and held firmly. He needed to get the blood to stop. It wasn't even clotting well.
"So, Sherlock, when were you planning to introduce me to your charming bride?" Mycroft asked changing the subject as Sherlock looked his wife over for other injuries.
"When I felt she was ready." Sherlock said looking into the dark pools of his wife's eyes. She had tears in them. Her face ached, but she could feel what he was doing was helping, but her face would be bruised for a week or more.
"Was I premature then?" Mycroft asked.
"Perhaps." Sherlock said, his voice a growl.
"I have heard a rumor that she is carrying your child." Mycroft said looking at his fingernails as he changed the subject.
"For once rumors are correct." Sherlock said coolly, looking at his brother.
"Congratulations are in order then. I never thought you were the type to date, let alone have a wife and a child on the way." Mycroft said clapping his hands together.
"Surprising what can happen, eh, brother, but I am a little surprised myself."
"Well, I should let you boys chit-chat for a bit. I need to use the washroom." Marion said.
"Down the hall, second door to the left." Mycroft said.
She got up and moved to the washroom, her hand lifting as Sherlock moved to help her.
Once she was down the hall, Sherlock rounded on his brother. "You kidnapped your own sister-in-law and then you allow her to be beaten."
"To be fair she was the instigator of that." Mycroft said.
"I would have been too if someone had me get into a car and take me somewhere unknown."
"You are right. I should have told her up front of course." Mycroft said.
She came back touching her nose looking for more blood. She had clearly washed some of it away and splashed some cool water on herself. She walked in and sighed. "Oh you are still talking. I will wait out…"
"No, stay a moment, my dear sister-in-law." Mycroft said. "I did not mean to frighten you."
"You didn't." She said.
Mycroft rose to his feet and stepped to her. Sherlock was watching him like a hawk. Mycroft touched her arm. "If you ever need anything, just call, sweet sister." He said handing her his card before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek away from the bruising.
She nodded and then stepped back.
"Marion. Go to the car and wait for me." Sherlock said.
She looked at him. "You aren't going to kill him are you?"
"Not this time, but I am seriously considering throttling him for the hurt he caused you."
"I am fine Sherlock, really. His man hits like a girl. My nose isn't broken. If he would have hit better it would be."
He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. "That makes me feel so much better about the situation. To the car!" He barked and pointed.
She sighed and walked out the door and went to the car. She got into the passenger's seat and sat down. She pulled out her smart phone and sighed while she waited. The rain made a rather calming sound against the windows of the car and roof.
Inside, Mycroft then rounded on his brother. "Not one word. Not one word did I hear from you that you were dating, seeing women, or sleeping with them."
"It was a mistake." Sherlock said moving to wipe his hands free of his wife's blood. She had bled quite a bit and it worried him. He would have John look at her before he took her to the hospital. Maybe some pain meds and bed would be best.
"I would hardly call her a mistake. You could do worse for yourself. She is intelligent, beautiful, and can clearly keep up with you." Mycroft chuckled. "And she certainly is better than the men I brought."
"That is not hard to achieve."
"Now, now, not everyone can be as intelligent as us, little brother."
"She is my wife because of an error in judgment."
"You regret it?"
"Yes. I am not father material." Sherlock sighed.
"But you married her." Mycroft said. "We will soon have another Holmes in the world."
"Seemed like the correct thing to do. I can support her and the child." Then Sherlock chuckled. "God help the world with another Holmes."
"May it be a girl." Mycroft said.
"Why?"
"Because I would like a niece to spoil." Mycroft said. "And I need to work on my target practice for anyone who would try to harm her."
Sherlock shook his head. "That is if I haven't gotten him first."
Mycroft shook his head and then touched Sherlocks's arm. "Try to be kind to her. Women carrying children can be very…touchy."
"So can I…"
"This isn't about you." Mycroft hissed. "Do you know what she is carrying?"
"A baby, naturally." Sherlock said looking at his brother as though he had grown a second head.
"I meant the sex. Boy or girl." Mycroft said. "As I said I would like a niece."
"She has not told me and I did not go to her last medical appointment."
"Perhaps you should."
"I fathered the baby, I will help with the upkeep, and protect it and its mother, but I am hardly husband or father material." Sherlock said.
"Aren't you the least bit happy?"
"It is what can happen when you have sex. Unprotected sex. Really good unprotected sex."
"Just the thought makes me want to put a drill to my brain."
"Perhaps you should." Sherlock hissed at him. "Do the world a favor."
Mycroft shook his head. "Word of advice little brother. Don't refer to the baby as an accident. Especially within her earshot."
"But it was." Sherlock smirked. "The sex was worth it. At least that is what my brain tells me."
"Well I would hope so. Would need to be mind blowing for you to even think about it and distract you enough to repeat it."
Sherlock sighed. "She is beautiful." He said softly, almost wistfully.
"She will be touchy. Let her think it was all for the best. The further along she gets the more she will become moody."
"Something to look forward to." Sherlock shrugged. He walked out and rejoined his wife. He got into the car and looked at her as she leaned against the door. "Marion?" He asked softly.
Her eyes opened and she looked at him. "Oh you are here. Is Mycroft alive?"
"For the moment. Come let's get you home." He said taking her hand in his and kissing the knuckles before he started the car.